


If You Need to be Satisfied

by nautilicious



Series: Shameless [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dancing, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Horses, Inspired By Tumblr, Prompt Fill, Texas Rangers, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-14 00:11:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1245475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nautilicious/pseuds/nautilicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly and Sally at John and Sherlock's wedding. In Texas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Need to be Satisfied

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QuickLikeLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/gifts).



Molly put her chin in her hands, just for a moment, and watched the dancers. She felt almost entirely happy that Sherlock had married John at last. Her silly little crush on him had passed, so she only felt thrilled for his joy, truly. Well, at least 99% thrilled. Maybe only 95%. Not any less than that.

She sighed. Even feeling almost entirely happy for Sherlock meant that she felt a teeny bit sad for herself. She’d gotten over it; she’d long since stopped idolizing him and definitely wouldn’t put up with his bullshit any more. Still, he remained the most gorgeous man she’d ever met, and she envied the adoration he directed towards John. In the gazebo, Sherlock spun John in a ridiculous turn and then _dipped_ him, letting him up only after a quick, sweet kiss. Why couldn’t she find a non-sociopath who’d do the same for her? Damned wedding vibes. Made her long for things she might never find. 

The sound of hoofbeats brought her attention to the winding trail around the garden. Lt. Donovan and her gorgeous black horse came to a stop next to Molly’s bench. Molly had always admired the lieutenant’s poise and striking features, but she thought Donovan looked particularly stunning in her wedding finery: cream-colored trousers and crisp white dress shirt covered with a red waistcoat and matching bolero tie. She’d switched her workday fawn-colored hat for a black one and pinned her Ranger’s star in the center. The roses tucked along the brim marked her as part of the wedding party, a motif echoed in the tooling on her gun belt. The belt clung to Donovan’s hips, showcasing their slender curve, and Molly’s mouth went dry.

Lt. Donovan looked down at Molly for a moment, face unreadable, and then dismounted effortlessly. Molly swallowed. “Mz. Hooper,” Donovan said, and tipped her hat.

“Lieutenant,” Molly replied. “Um, hi.”

Donovan smiled, and the warmth of it changed her face completely. “I’m off duty as of this moment,” she said. “We did our bit as honor guard, and then as literal guard, and I’m ready for a drink. Can I get you anything?”

Molly nodded. “A Mexican Martini, please.”

Donovan raised an eyebrow. “Not a sissy drinker, I see.”

Molly grinned. “Nope.”

Donovan led her horse to the fence, tethered him, and made a beeline for the bar. Molly watched her walk away, noting that the trousers fit just as snugly over Donovan’s arse as over her hips. _Hmm_ , she thought to herself. Wedding vibe, indeed. If she couldn’t find true love in the afterglow of Sherlock and John’s ceremony, maybe she could find some…afterglow.

Donovan returned with the drinks — she’d also chosen a Mexican Martini — and they drank silently. The wind ruffled gently through Molly’s hair, mussing her sleek updo and sending wisps into her mouth. “Gorgeous weather,” she said after a moment.

“Yes,” Donovan replied. “Lucky bastards. Forecast said rain until yesterday.”

“They’ve been through a lot,” Molly said. “I think they deserve a perfect wedding.” Donovan frowned and Molly belatedly realized that some of Sherlock and John’s travails had been directly because of the lieutenant. “You have excellent horseman—um, equestrian skills,” she said quickly. “My grandmother has horses, and even though I don’t ride I think they are so beautiful.”

Donovan seemed to relax. “I got lucky with Stardust,” she said. “He’s a beaut, and I’ve never worked with a smarter or more solid horse.”

Molly chewed her lip a moment. She hated this part: the small talk, the careful investigation of interest and intention, the fear of offending, and oh, the awkwardness if she got it wrong. It seemed at least slightly likely that Donovan might be interested in women, since she’d chosen to go into the butchest and most prestigious arm of Texas law enforcement, but she didn’t want to assume. Certainly Molly’s sexuality had been obscured by her oh-so-obvious crush on Sherlock all those years. And yet, Donovan had brought her a drink, and tipped her hat. _Wedding vibe,_ she reminded herself, and blurted out, “Do you want to dance?”

Donovan smiled. “I really, really do.”

“After you, Lieutenant,” Molly said, setting her drink aside.

“Please, call me Sally.”

Molly followed Sally to the dance floor. Sally put her hand at the small of Molly’s back and put Molly’s hand on her shoulder. Molly considered saying something about Sally’s automatic assumption of the lead even though technically Molly had requested the dance, but decided to let it go. A wedding fling did not require a discussion of gender expression. She’d worn a flirty, ruffled dress with a very flattering neckline, done her makeup, and put on heels; Sally looked mouthwateringly dashing in her dress westerns and ohgod the gun belt, and Molly just wanted to dance, to press herself against Sally’s strong, lithe body, and be held like a precious thing.

Sally smelled pleasingly like horse, warm and grassy, and a bit spicy. Her hair felt soft where it brushed across Molly’s hand. Molly’s fingers twitched with the urge to wind into those curls and tug their mouths together. Sally danced with confidence and a smooth grace. Molly relaxed into the simple joy of being turned and guided. They danced well together, their bodies drifting closer as they learned each other’s rhythm. Sally’s hand slid carefully from Molly’s waist to her hip and Molly caught her breath.

“You smell good,” Sally said. “Lady Stetson?”

Molly nodded. “For years.” Its musky, peachblossom smell made her feel both delicate and powerful. It reminded her of the lazy warm nights of a long-ago Texas summer, full of stolen kisses and lessons in pleasure. That year the boys had lit up for her like fireflies.

Sally’s smile widened. “I’ve only ever known sexy women to wear it. Makes you smell edible.” She lowered her head to Molly’s neck and breathed, her lips ghosting across Molly’s skin in the barest of touches. Molly tilted her head in invitation and Sally pressed kisses to the soft skin behind her ear.

The opening bars of Garth Brooks’ “Shameless” poured over the dance floor. Any other time Molly might have giggled; despite being born and bred in Texas the song had always struck her as over the top. Instead, she decided to let the music carry her along, to allow it and the wedding vibe to bring her to a place of tenderness and anticipation. Sally gently scraped her teeth where Molly's neck met her collarbone and when Molly hummed in approval she bit down harder. Warmth rushed to Molly's pelvis. Sally raised her head and locked their lips together, all hesitancy gone. Sally’s tongue dipped into Molly’s mouth and Molly was right there to met her, open and ready. Molly lost herself in the kiss, feeling the sharp bite of desire through her whole body.

“I would lose all dignity if I sang along,” Sally murmured against Molly’s lips, “But oh, if you need to be satisfied…”

“Yes,” Molly breathed. “Please, yes.”


End file.
